


astronomy in reverse

by zoemorgans



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemorgans/pseuds/zoemorgans
Summary: I was a billion little pieces'til you pulled me into focus.(aka tiny kabby drabbles to kick my fic arse into gear)





	1. "You smell good."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donnawanderedoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnawanderedoff/gifts), [Blizzaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzaurus/gifts), [ultrahotpink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrahotpink/gifts).



It had been her idea - the simple, sensible promise of body heat to ward off the October cold. And, as uncomfortable as Abby was with an unusually... _tactile_ Marcus Kane pressed against her back the physician in her still maintained it had been a good idea.

Besides, between the bitter chill flooding into the makeshift tent and her daughter’s icy resentment simmering somewhere beyond the flimsy tarp that separated them from the rest of camp, there was something almost _magnificent_ about the press of the warm, solid mass against her back, fingertips nudging, unimpeded by the trappings of consciousness - of Abigail Griffin and Marcus Kane and who they had been before the Ark had plummeted to the ground - against her ribcage.

It could have been anyone, she told herself in a seething, silent mantra. She was cold, her daughter despised her, and it had been so long since she had been held like this her body would have reacted to anyone.

And then Marcus pressed his hand flat against her stomach, the heat of his palm electric against her skin.

“You smell good,” he uttered, his voice a hot, sleepy rasp against her neck, and Abby forgot how to breathe.


	2. "How long have you been standing there?"

“He's an _ass_ ,” Abby snapped, yanking the gloves from her hands with all of her might.

Kane had gone over her head again, winning over the council and Thelonious with another moronic scheme. And they had voted in favour of it, a four-two majority, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it now.

Callie smirked, watching her with unbridled amusement from the chair she had plonked herself in when she’d finished her shift earlier. “But an ass with a _good_ ass.”

Abby almost laughed in her face at the sheer absurdity of that statement. “I don't think so.”

Callie rose a disbelieving brow. “Come on, Abby. Even you have to admit that.”

She had to do nothing of the sort, but the longer she thought about it, her mind traitorously recalling the way he had stalked around the council room table, the arrogant satisfaction with which he had swaggered, victoriously, from the room…

“I suppose,” she conceded, a gruff admission of guilt, but it was as close as she would ever come to acknowledging out loud the reality that had been plaguing her for at least a month now, through every disagreement, every fight, every pissing match that had passed between them: Marcus Kane was an attractive man, reluctant as she was to admit it.

And then the man himself cleared his throat from the doorway, and Abby screamed internally for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“I’ll just see myself out,” Callie piped up, smiling sweetly before abandoning her to her fate.

Abby squared her shoulders defiantly, not about to let Marcus Kane get the best of her for the second time that day.   
  
“How long have you been standing there?”

Kane didn't reply, bridging the gap between them until they were barely a hairsbreadth apart and, for one awful, fleeting moment she thought that he might lean in to kiss her. For one, awful, fleeting moment she almost wanted him to.

“I came for my follow up,” he said instead, no trace of anything escaping from beneath the mask of cool stoicism he wore like a second skin.

His follow up?

Realisation dawned, her memory flashing back to the dislocated elbow he had come in with less than two weeks ago, and Abby forced herself into doctor mode, ignoring the odd mix of embarrassment and disappointment that had settled uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. She ushered him onto the nearest bed, poking and prodding at the limb until she was satisfied it was healing nicely.

She registered (with some satisfaction) the slightest flicker of discomfort cross his face, but it was gone in an instant, smothered beneath the stern expression his face was permanently twisted in.

At least, until he hopped off the bed and headed for the exit. He paused, lingering long enough to look over his shoulder, his eyes pointedly dropping to the aforementioned ass.

And then he smirked.

“See you at the next council meeting, Doctor Griffin.”

 


	3. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

The heavy hatch slammed behind Marcus as he stormed into the sanctuary of the chancellor’s quarters.

They were not his quarters—he had given up any claim he had on the relatively spacious living space of his own volition when he had forfeited the title—but in the months that had passed since the nightmare of Mount Weather, he had found himself retreating here more often, burying himself in plans and reports and basking in the domesticity he had found here.

With her.

“What happened?” Abby murmured, looking up from the stack of paperwork gathered in front of her on the council room table with an arch of her brow, and Marcus felt a little of the tension flood out of his body at the sight of her, alive and well, nothing more than a lingering scar marring the flesh beneath her jeans.

“Octavia,” he ground out.

Abby pursed her lips, her expression inscrutable as she pulled a pair of glasses from the bridge of her nose that Marcus recognised immediately as his own. It warmed his heart, the piece of him that him that had fallen so inextricably in love with this woman soaring at the familiar gesture. But then he remembered Octavia, and the fact that she had disobeyed his direct orders. Again.

The Mountain Men were gone, irradiated out of existence with the pull of a lever, but the Grounders were still out there – Lexa and her people, their uncertain alliance in tatters, and countless other clans that might wish harm upon Arkadia. A lockdown had been the only option, their people confined within the fortified walls surrounding Alpha Station, but apparently a lockdown meant nothing to Octavia Blake.

“What has she done this time?”

“Sneaked out of camp,” he answered gruffly, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I caught her creeping back on my evening rounds.”

“Again?” Abby replied, something akin to amusement creeping into her voice, and Marcus fixed her with a sharp stare.

“She has no regard for authority, Abby – yours _or_ mine. She’s reckless and she’s going to get herself killed.”

“And which part of that bothers you most?” she murmured softly, catching his eye, and Marcus felt suddenly exposed. “She’s young, Marcus. She’s just trying to help.”

“By charging off and putting herself in harm’s way?” He scoffed. He let out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging as allowed himself to sink into the couch. “We’ve been through this before. Why can’t I get through to her?”

“Welcome to parenthood,” Abby shrugged. “You’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.”

She snorted, nonchalance in her voice, but Marcus looked up just in time to see the briefest of shadows pass over her face and something crumbled inside his chest.

“Abby—”

She shook her head curtly, whatever paltry comfort he might have offered dying in his throat at the sad smile that upturned the corner of her lips.

“Be patient, Marcus,” she murmured. “That’s all any of us can do.”


	4. "Is that a challenge?"

Monty wasn't sure how - like everything else, he suspected the blame lay with Jasper - but somehow he’d found himself in charge of a underground betting pool.

And the focus of the betting pool? Only the goddamn Chancellor and Marcus Kane.

It had started a month earlier, over what passed for breakfast in Arkadia’s mess hall.

 

_*****_

 

“How many times a day do you think Kane and Doctor G think about fucking each other?” Jasper remarked with all the nonchalance of someone asking for the time of day.

Monty spluttered out his drink. Jasper carried on, nonplussed.

“They're doing it again now, _look_.”

He pointed across the crowded mess hall, painfully unsubtle as he pointed out the chancellor and her shadow, sequestered in a corner table.

“They're looking at each other, so what?”

“So we should place a wager.”

“What wager? How many times they look at each other? They look at each other all the time, they're running Arkadia together!”

“Not how many times they look at each other - how many times they look at each other _just to look at each other_.”

It was, perhaps, the most profound thing that Jasper Jordan had ever uttered.

It was also the first thing he had shown any interest in since Mount Weather.

Monty was going to regret this.

“And what do I get when I win?”

Jasper beamed. “Why Monty Green, is that a challenge?”

 

_*****_

 

From then on news had spread like a contagion, somehow - _miraculously_ \- not reaching the pair in question, but spreading to all other corners of Arkadia until even Sinclair had slipped a bottle of moonshine in for the daily sweepstakes. And Kane and Chancellor Griffin were still oblivious, their eyes still meeting across a crowded room, still sneaking surreptitious looks when the other was engrossed in reports.

Only the looks had grown longer, the smiles softer, and whatever awkwardness Monty had felt about running the betting pool before had quadrupled when the realisation had hit him like a tonne of bricks.

“They're in love with each other,” he blurted.

Jasper laughed at him across the table, looking away as Kane gave Chancellor Griffin Look #47. “Of course they are. Have you been living under a rock?”

Apparently so, but thoughts of Maya reminded Monty that his friend had one distinct advantage over him when it came to matters of the heart: Jasper had actually _been_ in love.

“Anyway,” Jasper continued, knocking back the dregs of his drink. “I bet I can get one of them to make a move before you can.”

Despite himself, Monty smiled. “Is that a challenge?”

 

 


End file.
